


Renegade: A Series of D'arshan What-if Scenarios

by diaphanous87



Series: D'arshan Tia: Eorzea and Beyond [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Being Lost, Brief Child Abandonment, Brief Violence, D'arshan needs a hug, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Lemon, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, No beta we die like mne, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pancakes, Threesome - F/M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, What-If, always bi D'arshan, confused and doing his best, domestic lemon, happy cheesy ending, oops this turned spicy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-01-31 10:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: Diverging paths that D'arshan Tia took in different universes.What if...
Relationships: Guydelot Thildonnet/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Leih Aliapoh/Silvairre/Warrior of Light, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: D'arshan Tia: Eorzea and Beyond [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477532
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. D'arshan Disappears After Fighting Ifrit (SFW, T-rating, brief M/M)

**Author's Note:**

> These will be AU oneshots full of what-if scenarios regarding D'arshan. They are not canon for his story, but explorations into the different decisions D'arshan could make in another time/universe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting a primal nearly broke him. D'arshan leaves to put the pieces of himself back together.

* * *

Elegant fingers strummed along taut harp strings, plucking out a soft melody. In a dim tavern an adventurer played their solemn song to a teary eyed and drunken crowd. The tavern keeper could only watch in amusement at the emotions being invoked. The adventurer’s voice was a sweet baritone as he sang of a prince’s lost heart and his journey across the stars to find it, ending the story with both sorrow and hope.

A tavern patron burst into wild weeping, much to his companions’ confusion. As the night wore on, he sang of other things. A story of courtly love gone right. A song about a fairy forced from her willow tree and fading. A tale of sailing the sea in the name of freedom. He drank only water to keep his voice clear.

Slowly the tavern emptied after last call.

The adventurer accepted his payment and went to his bed in the attached inn. Upon the small desk in his room he laid his harp next to his small hip pack. Putting the instrument into his armiger could wait until morning.

He peeled away his clothing layers bit by bit. An archer’s leather cuirass, light gambeson, bracers, and pauldrons disappeared into his adventurer’s armiger. Slowly he pulled out his clothes from the armiger for the next day, a fresh tunic and clean socks. Sitting in the lone chair, he bent over to unlace his tall boots. They were tucked against the desk to be put on upon the morrow. The adventurer then tugged off his socks and wrapped them together, shoving them into a cloth bag designated for dirty laundry. He would wash them later. Finally, he reached over his shoulder to pull his short sleeved tunic up and off.

It was an easy thing, this simple routine. Soothing in its methodology. He always got ready for bed after singing for his coin and knowing that before sunrise he would wake. There was no deep thought to the process, just a time to unwind.

The candlelight cast both light and shadow upon the scars decorating his bare torso. All were souvenirs from his life on the road. Bandits. Monsters. Undead. Beastmen. A god. He had fought them all whilst traveling. And he would continue to fight, he knew that much. He stroked a hand down his stomach, callouses catching on burn scars.

But his musing was interrupted by a chiming sound. His gaze landed upon the linkpearl that had somehow rolled out of his pack. Its light blinked at him in a quick rhythm. The adventurer let out a tsk and shoved the communication device into one of the little pockets of his pack unanswered. Sighing, he shook his head and snuffed out his candle. He wriggled into his rented bed, rolling over onto his front.

D’arshan Tia fell into a troubled sleep. And he dreamt of fire and an unrelenting reptilian god.

* * *

“Any answer?” Thancred asked, though he already knew the answer. Huddled together, the Scions all waited in the solar of the Waking Sands.

Minfillia’s shoulders drooped. “Nay, nothing,” she replied. Again, she didn’t say. Tataru patted the side of her knee in comfort.

Thancred slammed a fist on the desk. “Damnation!” He scrubbed his hands hard against his face. “This is all my fault. I never should have left his side. Mayhaps if I had been there…”

“Thou wouldst be a slave of Ifrit, like as not,” Urianger interrupted, not unkindly. “Thy lack of the Echo-“

“I know! I know.” The hyur slumped. “I know.”

“We can’t give up!” Yda piped in. “He’s one of us and he’s hurting. We can’t… We have to find him.”

Papalymo sighed hard through his nose. “We’ve searched! There hasn’t been even a whisper. Not in La Nocsea. Not in Thanalan. Why, not even in the Shroud! Madame D’ayaza is beside herself.” He gestured sharply with his hand. “Nothing.”

“Madame D’ayaza also said if we ever crossed her path again she’d stick arrows up our arses,” Yda reminded him. She tapped her cheek with a finger in thought. “I think she’s mad at us.”

“Why, Yda, whatever gave you that impression?” Thancred drawled, the bruise from the woman’s fist still dark upon his cheek. The miqo’te had dug in her knuckles with that hit. His knee still ached fiercely from where she had kicked it from under him. He had been thrashed spectacularly by the older woman. He still had bite marks on his forearm. Terrifying.

Y’shtola stayed silent however, as her companions discussed new plans to find their newest wayward Scion. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to let himself be found until he was good and ready.

* * *

Snow crunched beneath his boots, more falling from the gray skies above. D’arshan was headed north from the Observatorum despite the worsening weather. He had felt compelled to quickly leave the settlement of scholars and knights by their… lackluster welcome. These people of the snows weren’t the friendliest bunch. But one of the dragoons stationed there, an older hyur, had pointed the way to a small keep. Apparently they welcomed adventurers unlike the rest of Ishgard. He had also warned of the beasts that stalked the snows as well as the dragons that would occasionally attack.

But beast or vilekin or even dragons wouldn’t kill him; the cold and snow would do it instead. The bard sighed in frustration as a strong freezing gust blew hard at his back. The cold sank past his layers, his fur lined woolen cloak barely keeping him warm enough to keep moving. D’arshan tugged up his scarf to cover his mouth and nose. In his hip pack, his healing potions rattled, frost creeping up the glass. His dagger sheaths were also rimed with frost. Well, it was certainly a good thing he had decided against arming himself with his bow for this particular journey. It would have been useless in this wind and ice.

Dotted along the barely visible road, Ishgardians stood watch at the randomly placed Skyfire Locks. Their eyes looked upon D’arshan’s form with suspicion. Yet they did nothing to hinder or aid him. The goobues stayed among the trees, lumbering along at leisure. A croc snapped up a karkul in the distance. Ahead was the faint welcoming glow of an aetheryte above the stone walls of the fort. The miqo’te quickened his pace. He was eager for a hearth, as much as the idea of fire pained him.

The pair of guards at the southern entrance waved D’arshan through, suggesting that he present himself to their lord and commander before seeking out the open adventurers’ barracks. He nodded and hustled to where the guard was pointing. Another pair of guards waved him through the double doors leading into the command center.

Pausing after closing the doors behind him, D’arshan pulled down his scarf and shoved back his hood. He wriggled his furred ears, drawing stares from the knights scattered about the room. The giant hearth to the left emitted heat like a dream. He sighed in relief. And then a tall elezen with blue silver hair stood up from behind an imposing desk. He spread his arms happily.

“Welcome!” The elezen’s voice seemed to fill the whole room. The shirtless knights by the hearth resumed their squats as the other, fully dressed knights went back to their duties. “Welcome, friend, to Camp Dragonhead.” He swept himself into a bow as D’arshan approached by rounding the command table to stand before the desk at the back. “You have the look of a well-traveled adventurer about you, sir. I am Lord Haurchefant Greystone, commander of this camp and knight of Ishgard.”

“D’arshan Tia, son of D’ayaza Mhey,” the miqo’te said, bowing back. “An adventurer hailing from Limsa Lominsa. At your service, my lord.”

“Limsa Lominsa, you say? My, my, you are far from home, friend.” Lord Greystone sat back down. He rested his forearms on his desk, hands clasped together. He leaned forward as if he were parting with a secret. There was a happy light in his pretty blue eyes. D’arshan’s ears perked forward. “But you are welcome here, yes. And I’m sure you have a tale or two to tell besides.”

D’arshan smiled, the expression the most genuine it had ever been since the disaster with Ifrit. “My lord, you are in luck then.” With a wave of his hand, he summoned his harp from his armiger. He strummed it. The lady knight by the strategy table lit up in surprise at the sound. The lord of Camp Dragonhead clapped in delight. “I am a bard of some talent. Allow me to share the tales I’ve heard in my travels. Perhaps during supper?”

Lord Greystone jumped up excitedly. “It’s decided then!” He was fairly bouncing in place. “Tonight we sup heartily on stew and listen to Master D’arshan’s tales from abroad!” His knights cheered. “Come, come, Master D’arshan. Warm yourself by the hearth. Supper with be anon and we shall make merry and be great friends!” The commander of the camp seemed to do an excited wiggle, like a puppy given a toy. It was cute.

And for some reason, the great weight on D’arshan shoulders slipped away. He grinned, ears wriggling and tail wagging. “Sounds great!” He let himself be drawn closer to the hearth by the handsome lord but the flames did not fill him with fear for once. Instead he concentrated on the chattering elezen who had so warmly welcomed him. The deep blue of his eyes held the miqo’te’s attention, the jokes tumbling from plush lips making him laugh.

It was the most D’arshan had laughed in moons.

The weeks in Coerthas passed by in a blur of song and snow. Between hunts and levemetes, D’arshan kept coming back to the fort and Lord Haurchefant’s warm, bubbly welcome. The knights trained with him; the newer recruits’ grumbling silenced by the miqo’te’s talents. And every night, he performed a new song. He also learned some Ishgardian ones to add to his repertoire.

After a victory over a Dravanian assault, D’arshan might have led a fort-wide merry celebration with his fiddle and voice. And he might have also tumbled his way into Haurchefant’s bed every night after, to their mutual pleasure. He always did have a thing for tall men with talented hands…

But that was D’arshan’s business, wasn’t it?

* * *

In Old Gridania, D’ayaza strangely got the urge to high-five her missing son. She stared at her work in consternation. And then she slowly smiled. She returned to shaping her leather, whistling a merry tune. Wherever her boy was, she was sure he was going to be just fine. He’d call her when he was ready.

She would get the juicy details later.

* * *

**END**


	2. D'arshan Started As An Adventurer in Gridania (NSFW, F/M/M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if D'arshan started as an adventurer in Gridania and attached himself to a particular pair of archers...?
> 
> Chapter Specific Tags: Lemon, oral sex, anal sex, vagina sex, table sex, sex baby~!, cock-warming, ride that D'arshan, pound it
> 
> >;3c

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemon ahoy! Spicy threesome! 
> 
> You're welcome.

* * *

D’arshan levered himself upright. He blinked his sleep crusted eyes, rubbing them. The miqo’te flicked his ears in irritation. Beyond the curtains covering the bedroom window he knew that the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. It never failed, he would always be up just before the dawn. Quietly and gently, he crawled toward the foot of the bed. He had to be careful not to disturb his still sleeping bedmates. In the still dark room, his tail swayed in the air as he crawled on his hands and knees. He swallowed a squeak when he tumbled off the bed with a quiet thump. One of his bedmates rolled over, snuffling.

“Shit,” D’arshan whispered. He peeked over the foot of the large bed, eyeing them. Oops. The other of his bedmates was sitting up. He made a soft, rumbling sound of inquiry, eyes still closed. “Shh… just gonna make breakfast.”

“Damn sun cat,” Silvairre growled, flopping back down. He pulled the still sleeping Leih to him, the other miqo snuggling into his warmth. “Come back here.”

D’arshan stood up. “But… pancakes…” he whined. Silvairre just held up his free arm to beckon him back. “Silv, pancakes.”

“Can wait. Come up here.”

Leih woke then, one eye open since the other side of her face was pressed against Silvairre’s chest. “Too early for arguing,” she slurred. “Get back in bed meow.” She buried her face back against their elezen, snoring.

“You heard her. And we’ll have a morning tumble.”

“Now?”

“No, you sun loving miscreant. At a more reasonable hour.” Silvairre shook his still upraised arm. “Arshan, now.”

“Okay, okay.” D’arshan crawled back over the foot of the bed, tucking himself against his lover’s other side. He and Leih were pillowed on his muscled pectorals like mirrored images. A strong arm wrapped around his back, the hand cupping his shoulder. Across Silvairre’s waist, Leih and D’arshan’s tails were intertwined. Softly, quietly the trio dozed.

Though in a few bells time, D’arshan found himself on his back, a Wildwood elezen between his thighs and a Keeper miqo’te sitting on his face. Not that he was complaining about it. Nor could he. His mouth was a little occupied.

* * *

It was around noon when D’arshan finally got the chance to make pancakes. A moan sounded behind him. He whirled around. “Seriously?” he wondered. He eyed his lovers. Silvairre was kneeling before a sitting Leih at the table, his face buried between her thighs with her calves over his shoulders. Her hands were buried in the elezen’s silky black hair. D’arshan huffed in amusement. At least they made a pretty picture. “And they say us miqo’te are insatiable, Silv.”

“S-shut up, Arshan,” Leih moaned. “Day off.” She squealed. “YES!”

“Right.” D’arshan rolled up a pancake, biting off the end. “We have been working hard.” He finished his pancake and turned off the stove. He shoved the plated stack of them into the oven to keep warm. He watched as Leih was brought over the edge again. “Another, Silv,” he crooned, cupping one of Leih’s breasts. “She’s so lovely when she comes.” He rubbed her nipple with his thumb in a circle, softly singing a wordless tune to her. “That’s it, sweet love. Sing for us.” D’arshan mouthed her other breast, suckling the taut pink nipple. He reached up with his free hand to rub the base of her ear. She warbled a cry.

Silvairre made an affirmative sound against her sex and Leih wailed. Her thighs flexed in an attempt to close around pointed ears but they were held open by the back of her knees cupped in the other man’s hands. She heaved and arched in the midst of her orgasam. The tops of her breasts were marked by bruises from D’arshan’s sucking mouth. One of her hands reached up to clutch at the front of his shirt. He laughed against the hollow of her throat. Silvairre pulled back, pressing soothing kisses to her inner thighs as she came down from her high. His lips were wet from her juices. He licked them clean. Slowly he lowered her legs so he could stand.

“Done?” D’arshan asked.

The elezen hummed. “I gave her three,” he replied. “Now I’m hungry.”

“Pancakes in the oven,” D’arshan said. He lifted Leih to bend her over the kitchen table. She wiggled her bottom at him, tail raised. Silvairre served himself, leaning against the counter to watch while eating. D’arshan gently nudged at her ankles with his feet to spread them farther. Leih obliged. Her hands were braced on the table, her torso flat against the smooth wood. She let out a happy sigh as her Seeker lover slowly entered her. The stretch was delicious. She pressed her heated left cheek against the cool table. The warmth of his hands cupping her hips was lovely, his thumbs stroking her skin. Slow, deep thrusts stretched out the pleasure. Her tail wrapped around his left forearm. He curved himself over her body, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. He panted, his hot breath puffing against her back.

“My nuhn,” she crooned, purposely tightening around him.

“Don’t… call me that,” D’arshan growled. “You’re a Keeper, babe. Keepers… keepers don’t have nuhns.” He paused, slowly pulling back. He left only the tip of his cock in. Leih whined in protest. But her hips were held firmly in place. She scrambled at the table, nails scratching it. “What do you think, Silv?” He flicked his ears at their elezen.

“Show her, then, if she’s so keen on it,” Silvairre said, finishing his pancakes. His gray eyes gleamed. “Show her how a nuhn would fuck her.”

D’arshan let out a panted tsk. “Not a nuhn,” he said. But he then slammed hard into her, ramming his cock in with full force. Leih choked out a scream, eyes rolling. Her ears folded back, her tail squeezing around his left forearm. D’arshan did not relent however, setting the new pace as hard and fast. With his right hand, he reached down and mercilessly rubbed her clit. Her fourth orgasm of the afternoon ripped through her. She wailed and begged for more. The wet slaps of their skin meeting over and over again echoed in the kitchen.

Silvairre sipped his iced tea, more than happy to watch his lovers. But once he was finished, he slowly set his cup into the sink. The elezen knew that D’arshan would finish soon enough just from the look on his face. He pressed himself along the other man’s back, his flexing bottom pushing against Silvairre. He whispered how much he was going to enjoy bending D’arshan over the table next. The Seeker moaned, his fingers digging into Leih’s hips. Beneath him she yowled through another orgasm. Her muscles fluttered around his cock. He let out his own wail and thrust forward hard one last time as deeply as he could, releasing his seed. He pressed his head back against Silvairre’s chest.

The elezen took advantage of the presented throat, gently wrapping his hand around it. He stroked his fingers along the miqo’te racing pulse. And then he pulled D’arshan away and bent him over next to the nearly incoherent Leih. She crooned at him, a dopey smile on her face. She then squeaked as the elezen scooped out some of the seed oozing out of her. But Leih watched as their lover prepped their third and slowly pressed into him. The poor table squeaked with each thrust as Silvairre set a steady pace. D’arshan and Leih locked gazes, even as his eyes glazed over from the pleasure. He made encouraging noises, urging their elezen faster. Leih joined in the chorus, demanding that Silvairre speed up. She was eager to see.

Silvairre growled. He began to slam into D’arshan, chasing his finish. He sank his teeth into the crook of the other’s shoulder. D’arshan shouted, petering off into a rumbling purr. Silvairre felt heat crawl up his back, a sign of his impending orgasm. “Here it comes,” he managed to growl out against D’arshan’s shoulder. The other man begged for it, a rasp in his voice. Silvairre groaned from deep in his chest, hilting himself deep. He filled D’arshan with his seed for the second time that day.

Leih cheered tiredly as she peeled herself off of the table. She left Silvairre buried still in D’arshan, knowing that the elezen took great pleasure from staying in for as long as possible. She shoved some pancakes into her mouth. Her men watched her from the table. “Good pancakes, Arshan. Thanks!” Leih hummed happily.

D’arshan laughed, wriggling his bottom against Silvairre’s pelvis. “You’re welcome,” he rasped. He moaned when the other man rubbed the spot on his spine above the base of his tail. “Silv, you bastard.”

“Shhh, love. Just keep warming my cock.” Silvairre patted his hip. D’arshan huffed but stayed bent over. He sighed in disappointment when he finally pulled out. “Ah, you’re hard again.”

“Whoops,” Leih said, having finally recovered. She plopped the empty plate into the sink. “We better take care of that. To the bedroom!” Together she and Silvairre dragged D’arshan into their bedroom.

More pancakes were made later for dinner before a fourth romp.

* * *

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tap that kudos or leave a comment, if you like. Bye-bye!


	3. D'arshan Is A Dad, Oops (M-Rating, M/M, brief mention of F/M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'arshan wrapped it but accidents happen. So he never made it to Limsa Lominsa and his supposed destiny as the Warrior of Light. He's just a young dad now, living in Gridania with his mother and raising his child. The handsome elezen bard coming into his life anyway was completely unexpected.
> 
> Chapter Specific Tags: Brief child abandonment, brief violence, handsome bard alert, taming of the Guydelot, D'arshan is always bi, domestic fluff alert, accidental baby acquisition, love confessions
> 
> 000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic fluff, the fluffiest, baby fic, will not be held responsible for the cute
> 
> I saw a pic from @surfage on Twitter of a baby G'raha Tia and inspiration hit. I immediately started typing this. Also I used to read a lot of romance novels, so yeah. #sorrynotsorry
> 
> 000

* * *

The two adult miqo’te stared at one another, one in embarrassment and one in confusion. Held between them, a kit wriggled in the woman’s hands. Her bright eyes were Seeker in color but her pupils were round like a Keeper’s.

“Oh.”

“You don’t believe she’s yours?!”

D’arshan cleared his throat. “It’s not that.” He nervously laughed. “The blue and red hair is pretty distinct. I just… we did use a sheath, didn’t we?”

The Keeper woman huffed. “They’re not failsafe, you idiot,” she growled. “It probably tore.”

“Ah.” He glanced down at the baby sucking on her fist. Drool dripped from her stuffed mouth. “I see. My apologies.” D’arshan coughed when the kit was shoved against his chest. He fumbled a little when he caught her. “Hey!” Immediately he cradled her, hand supporting her wobbly neck and head. She latched onto his tunic shoulder with her mouth. The cotton became soaked with drool. He grimaced at the feeling.

“She’ll have a better life with you than with me,” the woman announced, her ears flicking with irritation. “I wasn’t planning on having a kit and I certainly don’t want to keep her. Six moons was long enough for weaning.” She stepped away. “Besides, half-breeds are not the thing. Sorry.” And then she dove into the crowds of the Sapphire Exchange, disappearing.

D’arshan felt his jaw drop, his ears folding back. “Oh my fucking god…” He leaned the baby back to make eye contact with her. She gave him a gummy grin. He vaguely noted that her fangs were already peeking out from her upper gums. “Fuck.” He didn’t even get a name. Had that woman named her at all?! “Fuckfuckfuck.”

* * *

“I thought I told you to use cock sheaths!”

“Mom, I swear I did!”

* * *

The first two weeks spent learning how to care for a baby were exhausting. Arshan had a gut feeling that his one-night stand had not been… the most loving. His kit certainly seemed touched starved, clinging so desperately to him. It was as she knew him already, which was wild. He had never seen her in the six moons she had been out in the world. Thankfully his mother hadn’t stayed too mad at him. If he wasn’t holding the kit, she was. Ayaza took to being a grandmother with aplomb.

Thank the gods. Arshan wouldn’t have known what to do if she had rejected his half-Keeper kit too.

“Son, you still haven’t named her,” Ayaza said whilst cooking dinner.

Arshan looked up from where he was changing his daughter’s nappy. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it. Obviously she’s a D, like us. But I don’t know anything about Keeper names.” He playfully tweaked his kit’s nose and she let out a bubbly laugh. Her legs kicked about as she flailed her pudgy little arms.

“Don’t worry about Keeper naming,” his mother replied, her voice dripping with distaste. “Her mother had a chance to name her but didn’t.” She huffed. “She’ll have your name either way.”

“I suppose so…” Arshan cuddled the kit close. He smiled when she nuzzled his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, her little ears twitching. And then vague memories of his previous life’s grandmother flashed through his head: her little, wrinkled hands soothing his hurts, the fire still in her eyes even as she lay dying in her bed, the love she showed him when his own mother barely acknowledged him, the way she ran the house with both love and sometimes an iron fist. He had loved that tiny tyrant, his lola. “D’alisay,” he said softly, giving the name a Sun Seeker twist. He smiled, inhaling his kit’s scent of sweet milk and baby powder. “May you have her fire and her strength,” he whispered against her little ear. He looked up to see the soft, loving expression on his mother’s face. “What?”

“I see we’re keeping our naming pattern alive,” Ayaza said with a soft laugh. “D’alisay Arshan, welcome to the family.”

Arshan then realized what she meant and he laughed. Alisay squealed and laughed, bouncing happily in her father’s arms. She squealed again as he lifted her above his head. “Whoosh! Up we go!” She then coughed up a bit of her goat milk dinner onto his forehead. The spit-up dripped down his temples. The baby let out an unrepentant giggle. Ayaza roared with laughter, falling to her side next to the cooking fire. Dismay was written all over Arshan’s face as he lowered her down into his lap. “Alisay, no!”

* * *

“The Elementals welcome you, D’ayaza Mhey, D’arshan Tia and D’alisay Arshan,” the Gridanian hearer in Quarrymill said after the three presented themselves. Behind them, Duckie the chocobo kweh’d. “And Duckie, welcome. Welcome to the Shroud.” She smiled when the babe in the sling across D’arshan chest squealed. “Will you need an escort to Gridania?”

“Yes, please. We would be grateful for one,” D’ayaza said. “My son has his hands quite full with my granddaughter and her more immediate belongings. And my bow can only aim at so many threats.”

The hearer bowed. “Of course, Madame.” She gestured at a group of Quivermen. They hurried over. “Captain Eugenien and his men are headed back to the city. Captain, if you could be so kind as to escort our newly Welcomed citizens. Madame D’ayaza and her son D’arshan are two of Guildmaster Geva’s newest leatherworkers. They come from Thanalan.”

The captain bowed. “Of course, Hearer, by the will of the Wood. I will see to it that they are escorted to our fair city unharmed.” Obviously he was one of the few not leery of outsiders for he smiled warmly at the miqo’te. “If we leave now, we will make it to Bentbranch by nightfall, madame, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain,” D’arshan said. He handed a baby wafer to D’alisay to chew on. “We’ll try not to slow you down.”

* * *

Hurriedly D’arshan handed his kit to his mother. She immediately curled around the baby hidden behind a massive tree. Duckie stood above them, wings spread defensively. The old war chocobo fought off any who approached. One of the Quivermen shouted as an arrow slammed into the front of his shoulder. D’arshan shoved him toward his mother’s hiding place. Behind the tree they were defending, D’ayaza staunched the wound as best she could with a screaming babe tucked against her and unwilling to pull out the arrow just yet.

D’arshan pulled out his own bow, nocking an arrow. He let it fly, the arrowhead embedding itself into the offending cutthroat’s eye socket. The wildwood criminal fell to the forest floor dead.

Captain Eugenien welcomed the miqo’te to their ranks, shouting orders. Highwaymen fell as aetheric poison and excessive bleeding took them out of the fight. The captain noted how easily the younger man slipped into the role of his injured third, a fire in his eyes. But he was also coldly efficient, methodically taking out every highwayman in his range. Once the last attacker dragged away their still living injured, the forest quieted once more. A couple of arrows still rattled around in their own quivers but that was fine. And there were only minor injuries except for the arrow planted in his third’s shoulder. His second and his fourth thanked the Seeker miqo’te man, battle bonds now formed between them.

D’arshan nodded at the grateful Gridanians as he strapped his bow to his back. He wiped a bit of blood from his cheek with his forearm. He went to calm Duckie down before kneeling next to his mother. When she handed him D’alisay, he greedily held his weeping kit. She clung to him, wailing and wiping drool and snot onto his sweaty shirt. But the baby was safe. She was safe. Thank the gods. He curled around her and rocked back and forth.

Meanwhile, D’ayaza was helping with treating the Quiverman’s wounded shoulder. Thankfully the arrow had gone through, the head sticking out of the back of his shoulder. It meant she didn’t have to dig it out. Together with the captain and his second, she snapped the shaft. The men held their comrade still as he thrashed. The fourth pulled out the front half from his back as she pulled out the other end. Green healing aether gathered in her other hand, flowing into the wound. Sweating, the Quiverman stood on wobbling legs. He gruffly thanked the miqo’te woman, blushing under his mask. She smiled sweetly at him and accepted his gratitude.

“Right, gather up arrows for your quivers, lads,” Captain Eugenien said, shooing off his men. “We still have a bit to go to Bentbranch and we can’t be without.” He got down on one knee next to D’arshan. “You alright, son?”

Startled, D’arshan looked up, his ears and tail flicking. “Aye,” he croaked, slowly uncurling from around his now mostly calm but hiccupping daughter. “Aye, captain.”

“There’s a lad, you did good.” Captain Eugenien clapped his shoulder. “You did fine work out there.” Gently he helped him up. “How about this? If you ever want, come find me at the Archers’ Guild. You’re a beautiful shot and I wouldn’t mind such a bowsman on my squad. What do you think, Arthremont?”

The injured third of the Quivermen squad nodded. “You’d do well with us, I think,” the duskwight replied. “Who taught you?”

D’ayaza laughed, having finished cleaning her hands of blood. “I did,” she said. She grinned at their looks of disbelief. “I was the best huntress of my tribe before I left. And then I picked up Arshan and raised him, taught him everything I knew. The desert is not kind to the helpless. He learned quickly.”

“I had the best teacher,” D’arshan said, wiping his daughter’s face before putting her back into his chest sling. “Thank you, captain, for the offer. May I think about it?”

“What? Oh, of course.” The captain looked down at the drowsing baby attached to the shorter man. “Of course. You do have a babe to think about and being a member of the Gods’ Quiver is dangerous. Take your time, get settled in Gridania. And if you do turn it down, well, nothing can stop you from practicing with us, eh?”

D’arshan flashed a grin at the elezen. “Nope, no rules against that.” He nodded at him before he turned to help hitch Duckie back to their little cart.

Captain Eugenien sighed and, together with his men and the miqo’te, the little caravan continued on its way to Bentbranch.

* * *

It was with great relief that they entered Gridania the next day. The captain had kindly led them to the new citizen registry before departing for his guild, his squad in tow. And finishing the registration process had been surprisingly easy, thanks to the fact that D’ayaza had started the process a moon ago while they were still in Thanalan. She had sent in all the proper citizenship applications to the Gridanian government. It had taken a week before they received the okay from a moogle-delivered letter to present themselves to a hearer in Quarrymill by moon’s end. And now they were here, to a mixed welcome. So the rumored xenophobia wasn’t just a rumor. Apparently Eugenien and his squad was the exception and not the norm.

They would deal just fine, either way.

“Alright, so let’s get settled in, my sweetlings,” D’ayaza said as they left the registry. “According to Mistress Lilietta our cottage is this way.” She led the way to the residential district of Old Gridania. “And tomorrow we’ll start work at the Guild.”

“Alisay will be fine at the kinder-care, right?” D’arshan asked worriedly as he stumbled after his mother. “The one attached to the guild?” Duckie used his head to gently push him along.

“It’s run by Geva’s eldest daughter,” his mother replied. “My grandbaby will be just fine there. And you can check on her whenever you please. Just as long as you finish your work properly.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Don’t worry so much, kit. We’ve given her our samples and have been accepted into the guild. We’ll just work our way up, okay? Geva may not be the softest of women, but she is one with integrity. Do no fear. Ah-ha! Here we are!” Together D’ayaza and D’arshan unhitched Duckie, brushing him down before settling him into the small attached chocobo stall with feed and a blanket. The chocobo dozed after eating.

The miqo’te quickly emptied their little cart, hauling their things into the cottage. Covers were pulled from the few pieces of furniture that came with the two bedroom cottage. Alisay let out a tiny sneeze from the flying dust. Arshan attacked the floors with a broom, sending dust and dirt flying out the front door. Ayaza marched into the kitchen, cleaning as she went. By the time they finished, it was almost past supper time. They cleaned themselves up as best as they could. But neither adult had any desire to cook. They grimaced at one another.

“Carline Canopy?” Arshan asked as he prepped a bottle of warmed goat’s milk for Alisay. Strapped to her father’s chest, not in a sling but now in a frontal carrier that let her arms swing free, the baby clutched at the bottle, shoving the nipple into her mouth clumsily. She suckled, her little ears wiggling at speed. Her feet kicked with her tiny toes curling. There was a cute flush to her chubby cheeks. She was as happy as a clam.

“Gods, yes,” Ayaza said, sighing.

And thus did their new lives in the Shroud begin. A man, his baby, and his mother. Well, this was going to interesting.

* * *

“Alisay, let go of papa’s buttons, please!”

Startled, a pair of twin elezen stopped and whirled around. “Oh, he’s not talking to me…” the female of the duo said. They stared at the handsome miqo’te man struggling to uncurl his child’s fingers to prevent his buttons from being ripped off. A hint of his firm pectorals peeked out from his shirt. The baby popped open another button. The girl blushed. “Definitely not talking to me.” She whirled around again to stomp off. Her brother hurried after her.

* * *

“Geez, this is why I can’t wear buttoned shirts anymore. You naughty kit,” D’arshan complained as he switched the baby carrier so his daughter was facing the front. He had fixed his buttons again. “You diabolical menace.” D’alisay only laughed her growling cackle, waving her fists. “Is this punishment? Karma?” A chuckle reached his ears. He turned around. He blushed at the man grinning at him. “Oh, hi.”

“Having a bit of trouble?” he asked, eyes bright with laughter.

“Oh just the usual. Babies are forever curious, you know. And grabby.” The miqo’te shrugged. “I’m D’arshan. You?”

The elezen with green highlighted in his dark hair grinned wider. He swept himself down into a courtly bow. “Guydelot Thildonnet, at your service.” He raised his head and wiggled his eyebrows. “Just Guydelot, if you like.” He came closer and looked down at the baby miqo’te. He wiggled his fingers at her and laughed when she tried to grab them. “Lively and lovely little girl you have, friend.” He peeked at D’arshan from beneath the delicate curve of his eyelashes. “Takes after her handsome papa and not just in her pretty hair and eyes.”

D’arshan flushed. “You’re too kind.” He smiled. “We’re out for a walk around the amphitheatre and to the markets. Would you… would you like to join us?” Oh gods, he was going out on a limb with this. But he was a little lonely and maybe a little horny and this man was really pretty.

His mother was going to kill him.

“Oh? Just like that?”

“Well, if you try anything I do have several knives on me,” D’arshan drawled. “I can and will stab a bitch to protect Alisay.”

Guydelot threw back his head and laughed. “A good father is always willing to protect his child at any cost,” he said. He pressed his hand over his heart. “I swear on my honor no harm to will come to her from me.” He smiled and offered his elbow. “Shall we?” His smile widened as the other man looped their arms together.

“Seriously, Guydelot, I have so many knives.”

“Kinky.”

“Not in front of the baby.”

* * *

D’ayaza accepted her granddaughter into her arms with bemusement. The sleeping kit didn’t even notice the transfer. Behind her son hovered an elezen so handsome that it should be illegal. “If you break my boy’s heart, I’ll stab you,” she said, a savage grin on her face.

“Oh, is it a family trait to threaten people with a stabbing?” the elezen asked, obviously not offended. Instead he looked amused, his puckish eyebrows raised in delight. “I like it. Oof.” He grunted when D’arshan kicked back at his ankle. “Ouch, darling. Stop that.”

“You’re terrible,” D’arshan said to the man he and D’alisay had spent the whole afternoon with, leisurely walking along the streets of Old Gridania and chatting. He had been easy to talk to and easy to laugh with. So much so that he had accepted the offer of an evening date for just the two of them.

“If I’m so terrible, why did you agree to a date?” Guydelot asked, eyes creased in amusement.

“Because you’re also handsome, witty, charming, and completely unintimidated by the fact that I have a kid,” D’arshan answered, flashing a grin at his mother. “Thanks, Ma.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, son.”

“What?” D’arshan sputtered in embarrassment. Behind him Guydelot laughed again, eyebrows raised higher. “What do you mean? I’m going to see you and Alisay tonight after the date.”

“No, you’re not,” D’ayaza said, a hint of fang in her grin. “Guydelot, honey, use plenty of lube.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”

“Seriously, stop that!”

“Take it slow. He’s never actually been with a man all the way.”

“Mother, I swear to the gods!”

* * *

D’arshan definitely slept with Guydelot after that first date and did not leave until morning. And he kept going back.

* * *

Guydelot tossed the cackling miqo’te kit into the air, deftly catching her much to her delight. He whirled around, holding her close. The kit’s father, his lovely D’arshan, smiled from where he was stretched out on the picnic blanket. Sticky little hands clapped his face, fingers digging into his cheeks. She babbled to him in a growly sing-song. He crooned a happy tune back to her in his velvety bard’s voice, smooth and well-practiced from his lessons with Jehantel. They sang wordlessly together as he carried her back to the blanket and basket of food. The elezen plopped her down next to her father. He knelt down to dig into the basket for a sandwich.

“Having fun?” D’arshan asked, stroking a hand over his child’s head and rubbing her ears. She squealed and crawled over to bury her face into his chest. She nibbled on his tunic. “Hungry, little peanut?” He sat up, sat her on her bottom between Guydelot’s knees, and accepted the little jar of mashed sweet carrot from Guydelot and a spoon. “Look, your favorite,” he sang.

“Fwee, fwee!” D’alisay made grabby hands at the spoonful of food. But she didn’t actually grab the spoon, just like she was taught. Instead she opened her mouth and eagerly ate the offering. “Hmm, hmm, hmm!” The baby clapped and ate another spoonful, her ears wriggling excitedly. Her little stubby tail wagged.

“What a good girl,” Guydelot said, stroking a finger over a delicate round cheek. “Our little lady.” He offered a bit of sandwich to D’arshan. “You need to eat too, darling.”

D’arshan chewed and swallowed. “Ah, thank you,” he said as he fed his kit another bite of carrot mush. He looked up to see a strange but warm expression on the other man’s face. He smiled in confusion. “What?”

The expression hurriedly turned into a smirk. “You’re so cute,” Guydelot said, his gray eyes bright.

“I am not!”

“The cutest! How lucky for me~! Ah! Don’t throw carrot at me!”

D’alisay clapped some more as she watched her papa and dada wrestle next to her. She laughed her growling cackle as her papa flung more carrot. A bit of carrot mush hit her nose. She tried to lick it off with her tongue, her Seeker bright eyes with their Keeper round pupils crossing. She didn’t see her dada pin her papa to the ground for kisses, so busy was she trying to get her mush off of her nose. The kit fell backwards, laughing. The two men scrambled apart to catch her.

* * *

By the time D’alisay learned how to walk and run, D’arshan came to a startling realization over lunch at a café in Old Gridania with Guydelot who was currently in uniform after morning patrol. “Guy?” he called with a shaky voice. His pale eyes were wide, nearly popping out of their sockets. The color had drained from his face.

Guydelot looked up from his soup worriedly. “What is it, darling? Are you alright?” He reached across the table, like the heathen that he was, and cupped D’arshan’s cheek. “No fever. Arshan?”

“Oh…”

Now panicking, Guydelot shoved his nearly empty soup bowl almost off the table. Both of his hands were holding his miqo’te boyfriend’s face. “What is it, amato? Are you hurt?” His expression darkened. “Do I have to kill someone for you?”

“No killing…” D’arshan leaned forward, touching his nose to the other’s in affection. He laid his hands over Guy’s. “I’m not hurt. I just…” A dopey smile crossed his face. “I love you.”

“Oh… Oh!” Guydelot blinked. “I love you too.” He let out a wobbly laugh. “Oh Matron be praised, you love me back!” He fit his lips over D’arshan’s, coaxing his mouth open with his tongue. He swallowed the sweet startled sound he made. The wet warmth of their kisses caused his miqo’te lover to moan softly. The elezen broke away, panting and pressing kisses along his beloved’s cheeks and along his brow. “I love you. I love you. I love you!”

There was a tremble to D’arshan’s relieved laugh as he nuzzled his elezen’s hands. “And I you. And Alisay adores you. My mother does too.” He kissed his palm, smiling slyly as Guydelot’s eyes darkened. “Stay with me forever?”

“You sure?” Guydelot asked. “I’m a bit of a fuck up, authority problems, you know?” One of his hands reached down a little to cup the other’s nape. “And I am horribly jealous, you see. Every time someone at the Gods’ Quiver looks at you with even a hint of lust, I want to scream. And Matron only knows Eugenien has been making noise about you joining his squad and he hates me and--“ He stopped babbling when D’arshan pressed a finger to his lips.

“Guy, shut up and listen. I love you. My daughter is more excited to see you than I am. And my mother has adopted you. You’re fucking stuck with us, deal with it.” D’arshan reached up to gently grab his lover by his pointed ears to pulled him down for another kiss, making the taller man groan deep in his chest. “Now pay the bill and take me home before we get arrested for public indecency.”

“Yes, darling. Anything you say, darling. Waitress! Bill, please!”

* * *

Geva reluctantly paid D’ayaza her due after D’arshan and Guydelot burst into the guild the next day to announce their engagement to cheers, congratulations, and groans over lost bets. D’alisay, held in the elezen’s arms, yowled her own delight though she didn’t understand anything that was going on.

“They couldn’t have waited another moon?” Geva grumbled.

“Arshan and Alisay haven’t lived in the cottage for weeks,” D’ayaza replied. “It was inevitable.”

“You…! Cheating! That’s cheating!” Geva tackled a laughing D’ayaza to the ground, much to her daughter’s embarrassment.

And in the middle of the guild, surrounded by enthusiastic supporters and well-wishers, D’arshan and Guydelot held their daughter and stared happily into one another’s eyes.

This was home.

* * *

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4000 words of Guydelot/WoL AU fluff, what even.
> 
> Hit the kudos and/or comment if you like. Thank you.


	4. D'arshan Came to Eorzea as an Adult (T rating, SFW, Gen, no pairing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if D'arshan had been transported to Eorzea as an adult and found by someone else completely different? Well, he certainly wouldn't be part of the D tribe...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A different origin story for D'arshan Tia.

* * *

Arshan patted the top of his head, feeling out the changes he had seen in his reflection. He had peeked into a rain puddle only to see completely new features. The only things familiar were his eye and skin colors. His breathing sped up as panic began to set in. How did this happen?! He fell to his knees by the puddle.

Cat ears, there were cat ears on his head! And not cutesy triangles either! And strange markings at the outer corner of his eyes! And slit pupils! And were those short fangs in his mouth now?! Ah, he cut his tongue feeling them. Oh god, he had fangs! And then he had felt a strange swaying sensation originating from the base of his spine. He slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder. Tail… A fluffy blue tail was attached to his ass. He whipped his head back around to stare into the middle distance in horrified silence for a long moment.

And then he broke. He curled into a ball. Arshan clutched his new ears.

He screamed.

* * *

Huddled in an earthen hollow, Arshan hugged himself in some sad form of comfort. His ears were folded back. Above his head a thunderstorm raged. With each boom from the sky, he flinched. His tail was curled at his hip. He shivered. A sonorous crack rattled his eardrums as lightning struck a close by tree. With a mighty groan the giant fell, the trunk landing in front of his meagre shelter. Arshan choked back a cry. He pressed himself harder against the back of the hollow.

* * *

“What’s all this now? A lost kitten?”

Arshan froze from where he was foraging for what looked like wild grapes. Holding a bunch in his trembling hands, he slowly turned around. He looked up. And up and up and up. He squeaked at the sight of the massive gray man looming over him. He felt his ears flick, which still freaked him out. “S-sorry?” he said. Was that an axe? Was he about to be killed by an axe murderer? His eyes darted around in his head. “Ar-are the-the-these your grapes? I don’t mean to st-steal.” His shoulders hunched up as he tried to make himself seem smaller. He held the fruit up to the man to give them back.

Arshan really missed being over two meters tall.

“Easy lad, easy.” The giant man rubbed under his eyepatch. “Those be wild and belong to no one.” His blond braids swayed when he cocked his head. “Ain’t no need to be afraid of old Wheiskaet. I only look fierce, eh? You lost, son?”

“Lost… yeah, you could say that.” The transformed man felt his ears droop in unison with his shoulders. “So fucking lost. I mean! Sorry ‘bout my language…”

The other man laughed, hand pressed against his exposed diaphragm. “That’s not even shocking to an old sellsword like me,” he assured. “But if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re looking a wee bit rough, lad. Ain’t got a thing on ya, huh.” He nodded when Arshan shook his head. “What’s your name, lad? Got any skills?”

Skills? Arshan shrugged. “I don’t know what you think would be a skill,” he said. “Ummm, and my name is Arshan” He didn’t say that he could read and write because he hadn’t seen any examples of the local language. The fact that he could even verbally communicate with this man was a minor miracle.

“A’rshan, that’s a fine name. Can you hunt? I mean, miqo’te usually know how to hunt at least.” Wheiskaet hummed when he was given a negative. “Well, that’s odd. Not used to living outside a city, eh?” He rubbed his bearded chin. “Can you fight? Use a weapon? Anything?”

Arshan perked up, his ears swiveling forward. “I know some hand to hand,” he answered. “And I’m good at running.”

“Well there you are then! Good things for a courier! Say, are you looking for a job? I’m on my way back to Costa de Sol. We’re short a courier, the previous lad ran off to marry his sweetheart, the silly sod. Though we’ll have to test you first, train you up even if you need it. The boss doesn’t hold with incompetence. But Master Gegeruju is a generous employer.” Wheiskaet nodded to himself. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, lad. Just because you’ve fallen on hard times doesn’t mean you’re bad. You were willing to give the grapes back to me without fuss. Starving thieves wouldn’t do that, aye? What do you think?”

Tears slid down the lost man’s face. He held his grapes close and sniffled. “Really? Even though I look like a crazy hobo?” His tail gave a hesitant wag.

Wheiskaet laughed and clapped a friendly, massive hand on his shoulder. “There, there. No need to weep, son. Aye, even though you look like a crazy hobo.” He chortled. “Come on, we’ve still got a ways to go to Costa, past the windmills. I’m sure we can get you a uniform easy enough once we arrive. We’ll start you off slow with little things, build up the trust and your fighting skills. And before you know it, you’ll be raking in the gil as one of the master’s top couriers! Now eat your grapes. You’ll need the energy. And don’t worry about the vilekin. My axe is sharp enough to keep us both in one piece.”

Arshan smile nervously and popped a grape into his mouth. It was just the right amount of sweet. Wait… what were vilekin?

* * *

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. If you like, please leave a kudos or comment. :3


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